


The Art of Stir-fry and Friendship

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-21
Updated: 2006-03-21
Packaged: 2019-02-02 15:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12729543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Jack and Daniel bond over sesame seed chicken.





	The Art of Stir-fry and Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

"Hand me the green onions, will you?" Daniel asked. Without a word, Jack passed the green bundle to the man beside him. Florescent light flashed off knives as the men wielded their blades with varying degrees of finesse on the vegetables lying helpless before them. 

Jack tapped the knife point on the edge of the cutting board. "What do you want me to do with these?" 

"Oh, put those with the bell pepper." Daniel pointed his chin towards an earthenware bowl heaped with tiny red, green, and yellow cubes. 

"Okay." Jack pulled the bowl towards him. Lifting the cutting board, he used the back of the knife to scrape the ragged remains of mushrooms on top. He set the board back down and pushed the bowl back to its original spot. "Next?" 

"Hmm, how about starting on the chicken?" 

"Cool. I can do that." Jack stepped over to the refrigerator and pulled it open. After a long minute passed with no movement on Jack's part, Daniel looked up from his paper-thin slices of green onion. 

"Is there a problem, Jack?" 

"No. No problem." Another minute passed. "So _where_ in the fridge would the chicken be?" 

"It's in the big drawer at the bottom." 

"Got it." Jack returned to his place by the sink with a pile of wet chicken parts in a plastic container. He set to work, humming under his breath. It felt good to be home. Okay, so technically he was in Daniel's home, but anywhere not crawling with Goa'uld-worshipping fanatics was a good place to be. He glanced at his companion who was sitting on a high stool pulled up to the counter. It wasn't Daniel's fault the mission had gone south. There was nothing to indicate P34-025 was one of Hathor's old stomping grounds or that the locals would be whipped into a fever pitch by the archeologist's simple questions. Of course trying to convince an angry mob that their beloved, if long absent, goddess had been freeze dried on a distant planet didn't help matters any. No one had been willing to listen. Goddesses didn't die, after all. The team was lucky to make it back through the Stargate with nothing more than bruises, a few cuts, and a badly twisted ankle. 

Jack picked up another slippery piece of chicken, laid it down on the board, and began to cut. When the mood of the crowd gathered around Daniel had shifted from amused curiosity to uneasiness, he'd been concerned. He'd called to the man across the heads of the villagers, but Daniel hadn't been able to get through the press of bodies blocking his way. Before Jack could signal for Teal'c, the mood had changed into howling fury. A glimpse of worried blue eyes was all he had before the mob turned physical. Without prompting, Teal'c had plowed through the wall of bodies to reach their downed teammate and pulled him from under a screaming and kicking pile of men. It was fortunate none of the villagers were armed with anything more than righteous indignation. Weapons fired into the air sent most of them scurrying for cover, giving the team a chance to head for home. They say any landing you can walk away from was a good one. He was content with limping away, as long as they all limped away together. 

Daniel pushed the onions off his board into a blue china plate already holding a mound of bushy broccoli pieces. A ping at his elbow made him turn to the toaster oven. Using a folded dishtowel, he extracted the tray of toasted sesame seeds and poured the warm brown seeds into a glass bowl. The aroma filled the kitchen, mingling with the scent of raw onion, garlic, and peppers. He pushed his glasses back up with the back of his bent wrist as he glanced over to check on Jack's progress. "Make the slices thinner." 

"What?" Jack looked up in confusion. 

"The chicken needs to be thinner. You want them to cook quickly and evenly." 

"These are thin," Jack disagreed, holding up a chunk of pale meat. 

"Too thick." 

Jack sliced a piece off and held it up for inspection. "Like this?" Daniel nodded. Jack went back to the chicken and Daniel started on the carrots. "Pizza would have been easier you know. You pick up the phone and dial. Voila, dinner." 

"If you want a mutiny on your hands, by all means dial. You know what Sam said." 

"Carter wasn't serious. And for your information pepperoni and anchovies do _not_ kill brain cells." 

"Wanna bet?" Daniel said without looking up. He heard Jack grunt and stifled a grin. He knew his friend enjoyed a good meal, but take out was faster. Unlike himself, Jack couldn't be bothered to cook for one. Once his team leader discovered Daniel actually liked cooking, he'd invited himself over for many a dinner, staying late into the night. Daniel didn't mind. Although he'd never said so, he enjoyed the company. It made a welcomed break from the normal solitude of his apartment. Some days the memory of too many hopes haunted the silence. The whispers of too many regrets lingered in the stillness. Jack's presence at his table, his teasing laughter, drove the ghosts away. When he'd first returned to Earth, cooking for one had been painful, but he'd gotten used to it again. He'd looked on it as a necessary evil, a temporary thing until he was reunited with Shau're, but now that she was gone . . . Daniel found he looked forward to their get-togethers with greater zeal. It gave him an excuse to cook for someone else, and a chance to enjoy dinner conversation without being jostled by a Marine carrying his tray to next table. While Jack had never said anything either, Daniel was sure he felt the same way. They shared more than a meal when they sat down to eat, whether it was fried chicken from a box or chicken parmesan straight from the oven. 

A buzzing sound made Jack look around. "Daniel, that pot just went off." 

"Good. That means the rice is done." 

"Already? Sheesh, we haven't even finished chopping up all the rest of the stuff." 

"The preparation takes longer than the cooking. It'll only be fifteen minutes once we get everything into the wok. Besides, the soup and the salad are already done. We've got time." 

"I'm not too sure about that. I told Carter to bring Teal'c at seven-thirty. Maybe I should call and tell them not to hurry." 

"We'll have dinner on the table when they walk in." 

"If you say so." 

"I do." Daniel finished with the carrots and set his knife down. He slipped off the stool and with an awkward shuffle, headed for the refrigerator. 

"What are you doing?" Jack's demand stopped Daniel before he'd gone two steps. 

"I'm going to get the orange sauce." 

"Sit back down. I'll get it." Jack retrieved the appropriate bowl, with a little direction from the other man, and handed it over. 

"Now turn the heat on under the wok and hand me the chicken. I want you to watch and tell me when the wok starts to smoke." Jack carried his loaded cutting board and set it down in front of a safely seated Daniel. He went back to the stove and turned the gas on. Daniel began dipping the meat into the sauce. 

"Okay, we've got smoke. Now what?" 

"Drizzle a tablespoon or so of oil into the wok and move it around until it coats the bottom." 

"I can do this. If I can explore planets on the far reaches of the galaxy, I can cook chicken in a funky shaped pot." 

"I can't believe you've never stir-fried anything before." 

"That's what Mr. Quick Wok is for. They have a drive through, you know." 

"Ugh." Daniel gave Jack the bowl. "Before you put the chicken in, drop the minced garlic in the oil. Once you can smell it cooking, put in the chicken." 

"Alrighty." The wok sizzled and popped as first the garlic then the chicken was added. The aroma quickly spread through the kitchen. Daniel washed his hands, then limped over to stand at Jack's shoulder. Jack spared him a glance then went back to concentrating on the meal. "Pull a stool over here." 

"I can't reach everything sitting down," Daniel said with a shake of his head. He began gathering the various bowls from across the counter, assembling them near the stove. 

"I can get those," Jack groused. 

"So can I," Daniel replied calmly. "My ankle's twisted, not broken." 

"Fraiser said for you to take it easy, stay off your feet for a few days." 

"I've been off my feet." 

"More or less." 

"I spent all day with my leg propped in a chair. Being up for five minutes won't do any permanent damage." 

"Fine, whatever, just don't complain when your foot swells up and turns blue." 

"I'll try to contain myself." When the chicken had turned a satisfactory color, Daniel brought Jack the bowls of chopped vegetables and then finally the remainder of the sauce. Jack dutifully added each and stirred until Daniel told him to stop. They both dipped forks into the colorful tumble of shapes and sampled the results. 

"That's good," Jack said around his mouthful. 

"Don't sound so surprised." 

"I'm not." He swallowed. "I mean, I made it. It had to be good. Right?" 

"No comment." 

"What do you mean 'no comment'? I saw you going back for seconds on the barbecue the last time we all got together at my house." 

"You put raw meat on a grill and slapped bottled sauce on it. How hard is that?" 

"I'll have you know it takes skill to barbecue." 

"It takes a meat fork and a brush." 

The doorbell saved Jack the trouble of a reply. He contented himself with a gruff, "That'll be Carter and Teal'c." 

"I'll pour up the soup. You can carry the stir-fry to the table when you come back." 

Jack opened the door to find Carter holding up a bottle. 

"I hope this goes with dinner," she said, handing it over. Jack checked out the label. 

"Looks good to me, but it'll have to wait for the master chef to pass judgment." 

"Wow. Something smells delicious." 

"Must be my new aftershave." 

"Where's Daniel?" 

"In the kitchen." 

"You let him stand up to cook?" Carter accused, pushing past her team leader on the way to the kitchen. 

"Since when do I _let_ Daniel do anything?" He turned to the bemused man still standing in the hall. "Come on in, Teal'c." 

"Good evening, O'Neill. I trust we are on time." 

"Right on the money." 

They walked into the dining room to find Daniel seated at the head of the table and Carter carrying a bowl of salad. Jack opened the wine and set it aside. In short order, the dishes were brought out and arranged on the table. Everyone took a seat. 

"This meal appears appetizing," Teal'c said as he helped himself to some of the stir-fry. 

"Thank you," Daniel said. 

"Hey, what about me? I did most of it," Jack protested as he poured the wine. 

"Thank you, O'Neill, for assisting Daniel Jackson in the meal preparation." 

"Assisting . . . " Jack grumbled under his breath. 

"You're right, Teal'c," Carter said, accepting a bowl of egg drop soup from Daniel. "This does look good. And thank you, sir, for all your hard work in making it. I appreciate a home cooked meal." 

"Oh, it was nothing." Jack airily waved away her praise. "Don't mention it." 

"Anyway, it beats pizza," Carter said with a grin. 

"Daniel wanted to phone in some pepperoni but I insisted on stir-frying." Daniel narrowed his eyes at Jack, but didn't comment. Instead, he shoved a fork full of salad into his mouth and munched. 

"Uh huh," Carter said in a carefully neutral tone. "Good call." 

"I thought so." 

"So Teal'c," Daniel turned to the man next to him. "I heard the general say something about letting you take a car out on your own again soon. You must be relieved. Waiting for one of us to give you a ride must be getting tedious." 

"Very. My use of a staff vehicle is contingent upon passing a self-defense driving course." 

"That should be a snap for a man who pilots spaceships," Carter said. 

"Driving is a simple matter," Teal'c said. "A small child could master the required skills." 

"It's those rules of the road that get you," Jack tossed in. "You've got to start watching that speedometer, T-man. I told you racking up traffic tickets that cost as much as the SGC's light bill wasn't going to slip by the bean counters unnoticed." 

"In the future, I will endeavor to remove the lead from my feet while driving." 

"Might help." 

"Next team dinner, you can give me a ride," Carter said with a smile. Teal'c inclined his head then picked up his glass of water. 

Jack helped himself to more chicken. Daniel passed the rice. Talk centered around the everyday: current projects, past missions, and the latest base gossip. When everyone was through, Carter rinsed the dishes and Teal'c put them in the dishwasher while Jack stored the leftovers. They regrouped in the living room where Daniel was relaxing on the couch with his leg propped up on the coffee table. 

Jack flopped down on the other end of the couch and stretched his long legs out in front of him. "So, Daniel, what's for dessert?" 

"There's cheese and crackers." 

"You'd think after all this time the words 'chocolate chip cheesecake' and 'pecan pie' would mean something to you." 

"Does the word 'insalubrious' mean anything to you? 

"No." 

"How about 'porky'?" 

"Suck all the fun out of it, why don't you?" 

"I do my best." 

"You succeed." 

"Guys, which would you prefer?" Carter held up two tape boxes. "'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' or 'The Sixth Sense'?" The majority ruled and she put the tape in the machine. Teal'c turned off the overhead lights and everyone settled back to enjoy the evening. Images flickered across the screen as the rest of the wine was served along with movie commentaries, bad puns, and the laughter of friends. 

The movie's musical score peaked as Daniel looked away from the screen to find Jack glancing over at him. In the semidarkness, they shared a contented smile. They'd made it safely home once more, a little battered maybe, but still together. There was a lot to be said for that even if it was never said aloud.


End file.
